Trek of the Avengers
by KatHarkness-Katara
Summary: The problem with amateurs fixing up and using advanced power sources is that you don't always get it right first time...and a broken Tesseract means Loki and Thor don't get home straight away.
1. Chapter 1: Silver Bells

**Trek of the Avengers Chapter 1 Silver Bells**

There were two things that still unnerved Steve Rogers about New York: the speed, and the noise. He'd been accustomed to constantly moving from one objective to the next at the speed of thought, and the roar of gunfire in his ears remained long after the battlefields of Europe fell behind, but this was civilian life. It should be calm, and gentle, and quiet.

But instead, it was all bustle and shouting and the screeching tires of automobiles stuck in traffic, and brightly coloured lights flashing all day and night. No wonder they called it 'the city that never sleeps'.

He felt a steadying hand on his arm. "Calm," whispered a low, female voice. He glanced to his side at Natasha Romanov, her red hair peeking out from beneath the woolly hat Clint had laughingly presented her with. "I know. The city's just too busy."

"What happened?" he asked. "There was always a fair bit of activity, but now it's just…so much."

"Technology happened," Clint Barton said, from Natasha's other side. "The computers used to break the codes during your war were the ancestors of the tech that makes businesses 24 hour operations. The bosses started asking more from their employees, and the corporate ladder was born. The corporations got the money, so they rule the roost." He sighed ruefully. "It's what Tony thrives on, though, so don't make any comments around him."

"At least he gave us pocket money," Natasha said.

"Hmm. The value of money's changed over the years," Steve mused.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "It's more that Tony gave us a lot of money, Cap."

"Oh? Roughly what could I get?"

Natasha smirked. "You wouldn't have much difficulty getting a fine diamond ring," she said.

"Dropping hints?" Clint laughed.

"I…I..." Steve spluttered. "I value you as a teammate and consider you a close friend, but…"

He was cut off by the assassins' laughter. "She's just teasing," assured Clint, winding an arm around her waist.

"Uh, okay," Steve said, a bit out of depth.

Sparing him further embarrassment, Natasha pulled them into a department store, and promptly abandoned them to look at jewellery. She caught up to them an hour later while they were looking at some gizmo. "I still don't get what it is," Steve said.

"I think it's like a Swiss army knife for making cocktails," Clint replied.

"Tony does like his drinks, doesn't he?" Steve mused. A shop assistant approached.

"May I help you, sirs, madam?" she asked.

"Does this come in red and gold?" Steve asked- lime green and brushed silver wasn't really Tony.

The assistant grinned. "Bit of an Iron Man fan, huh?"

As Steve flushed once again, Clint interjected. "Our friend's obsessed. Totally in love with the armour."

The girl laughed. "Oh yes, some people are like that," she acknowledged. "We don't stock any in those colours presently, but come back next week. Might have an extra charge, though."

"We can afford it," Clint told her.

Steve smiled. Christmas shopping like this was a new experience, but with Clint and Natasha, it was fun. They left the store, heading for another of Natasha's favourites. New York was still too noisy. From the streets, blaring horns and roaring engines. From the shops, repetitive Christmas music. In the background, the tinkle of silver bells.

* * *

'_There are no seasons in space,'_ Jim Kirk mused, _'but the crew still manage to get over-excited about Christmas.'_ It was four years into his five-year mission and so far, every year he'd been caught off guard by exactly what his mostly human crew would do to celebrate. Even the growing diversity failed to slow the enthusiasm; Tellarites, Triexians, Sulamids, Caitians; all were dragged into the holiday festivities. Well, except Spock. Despite his protests that it was all "illogical", there was much debate on the inter-ship chat rooms as to whether or not he just couldn't cope with the raw emotion so freely exhibited.

Luckily, this meant he could leave Spock in charge while he enjoyed the parties.

Last year, someone had managed to get hold of a case of Romulan ale. No-one knew how, considering the stuff had had only been on the black market for a year and a half. It was a heady beverage, but Bones McCoy's morning-after headache cures proved only marginally effective. When a second case appeared for New Year's a week later, most of the senior staff resolved never to over-indulge again.

Spock resolved to never let Jim over-indulge again That was embarrassing…

Bones resolved to develop a better headache cure.

Scotty had come up with a policy of dedicated teetotallers (all volunteers) who were asked to ensure no-one had more than 2 ales, on the understanding that their permanent records were safe. Jim was sure half the women had only signed up in order to refuse him drinks. Bones told him he was being silly. Spock had raised an eyebrow and called his logic "clouded".

Still, that Deltan from Agro-Sciences had a certain look about her. And she seemed to be in charge of his drinks tonight. Probably Spock's doing.

Yes, his crew was eccentric. Last time anyone had transferred off, it was a very staid, very respectable astronav lieutenant who just couldn't cope with his colleagues' relentless joie de vivre. Poor lad only lasted three weeks; the final straw was after someone reformatted some old sci-fi movies, turned Rec Room 3 into a cinema, and prompted everyone to start quoting _Star Wars_.

His replacement, Lieutenant John Smith, brought a collection of pre-Millennium Dr Who, which proved to be very well received.

That was right before an admiral tried to make the Enterprise his flagship. The near-constant "reversal of the polarity of the neutron flow" soon dissuaded him. Spock was still dealing with the complaints of gross stupidity.

A strange crew, but _his_ crew. They all passed muster at the end of the day, so who cared that they were unusual? Not he. From Spock and Bones wrangling at the top of the pyramid, to the crewman mounting hotplates on Scotty's engines to make Shrove Tuesday pancakes at the bottom, his crew- his people- were wonderfully diverse and uniquely talented. He'd give his life for any one of them in a second.

From the number of security men they got through, the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Right now, the crewmen acting as DJs were arguing over the proper definition of 'retro', 2230s or 2210s. And whether or not pre-WWIII music was fit for non-human ears. Oh, and it sounded like someone had found some silver bells.

* * *

The between-world void, the chasms between the branches of Yggdrasil, pulsated and oozed around the two travellers. Thor gripped the Tesseract tightly, his other hand starting to finger Mjolnir, his beloved hammer, both tool and weapon. The journey should have been virtually instantaneous; instead, they were meandering through nothingness.

"Thought you knew how to fly this thing" his passenger/prisoner Loki griped. Thor threw him a withering glare, but didn't answer. The thing flew itself; he just told it where to go.

They started to jerk. Loki's bound hands seemed to be slipping off his handle; Thor reached out, quick as a flash, and his free hand anchored the other Asgardian. He may be an insane, domineering murderer, but they were still brothers, and no-one deserved to be lost in the holes between worlds.

The Tesseract started to careen around; leaving Thor feeling like he'd been knocked out of the sky while whipping up a storm. The void filled with flashing lights, a psychedelic lightning storm across the whole spectrum.

Thor and Loki found themselves drawn to one of the lights, a constant blue-ish glow. As they were immersed in it, the cube bucked in their hands. Gravity seemed to restore itself, and they were falling out of the void, the light too bright to let them see what was ahead. And there was a soft tinkling, like tiny chiming silver bells.

**AN: I have actually been working on this since January 2013, so the Marvel-verse is as it was then - no Iron Man 3, no Thor or Captain America 2, no Agents of SHIELD. So please don't start telling me I've done things wrong. Also, in case you haven't noticed, this is the old TV Star Trek, not the movie reboot of recent years.**

**Another interesting facet of this fic is that I decided to pick chapter titles before writing each chapter by method of putting my iTunes on Shuffle, and then using whichever song came up as the inspiration. So there will be virtual cookies to anyone who can work out exactly which song the title refers to. If you cheat and Google the title, you're only cheating yourself.**

**Regular readers: Also this week, two birds talk things out in Flashback, and a young vigilante goes about his business in Black and Red.**

**Next week: The beginning of the end in Family Ties, as the end of the arc fast approaches. The ongoing adventures of little lost birdie Red Robin and his friends, old and new, in Little Bird's Vengeance. And the first chapter of a zany new story, Love and Mayhem. Although this one's been giving me trouble for months, so I can't guarantee it'll be ready. If it isn't, I will provide the next installment of Death's Avenger instead.**

**Please, please, please review!**

**See you soon,**

**Katara**


	2. Chapter 2: A Little Fall of Rain

**Trek of the Avengers Chapter 2 A Little Fall of Rain**

Thor felt a gentle patter of rain on his face, and opened his eyes to see a small rain cloud floating above his head. He willed the cloud to dissipate, silently remonstrating himself – last time he'd unconsciously summoned rain like that he'd been a mere lad, bested and knocked out fighting Sif.

He sat up and looked around. He was inside a room with the same feel as the place in Midgard he'd been taken to right after being banished. What had they called it? A hospital. Seeing as he'd blacked out leaving the inter-world void, it shouldn't be surprising he'd ended up in one.

Stop speculating. Focus.

He was lying on a narrow bed, next to something that beeped and whistled. On another bed nearby, he could see Loki, still bound, gagged and unconscious. Mjolnir was on the floor next to his bed. He reached down and picked it up, ever-so-slightly relieved he could still lift it.

A man entered the room, heading over to him. He was wearing black pants and a silvery-blue short-sleeved shirt, and was picking up a small black box as he came. "You just stay put," he said. "Until you're cleared for release."

"What is this place?" Thor asked, tightening his grip on his hammer.

"Sickbay," the man said. "On the starship _Enterprise_. I'm Doctor McCoy, Chief Medical Officer. The captain will be along shortly." He pulled a small piece of metal from the box and moved it around, while it emitted a whirring beepy noise.

"Starship Enterprise?" Thor asked, thinking of the longboats he'd seen his worshippers sail, just as a door whooshed open. Two men stepped through, one with golden-brown hair and an air of command, the other taller, darker, and with strangely shaped ears. They wore matching clothes; black pants and brightly colored shirts, gold for the commander, blue for the subordinate.

"She's the finest ship in the fleet," the man in charge said. "But we all say that. I'm Captain James T Kirk; this is my first officer Commander Spock. We picked you up about two hours ago – well, you and your friend appeared in the Rec room unconscious. May I ask your names?"

"I am Thor, son of Odin, of Asgard," Thor answered. "He is Loki."

"What were you doing to arrive on my ship?" Captain Kirk asked.

"I…do not know. We were travelling, and went off-course."

"How were you travelling?" Commander Spock asked. "We did not recognise the energy signals that registered when you arrived."

Thor paused. SHIELD had attempted to make weapons from the Tesseract. While he did not know these humans were of the same temperament, he didn't know they weren't. "We had…a device. It should have been direct."

"How does this device work?" Commander Spock pressed.

"I can't say," Thor said shortly.

"Do you _know_ how your device works?" Spock continued.

Thor frowned. Now that was a good point. "…Somewhat," he admitted sheepishly.

"You were using a travel device you don't understand?" Kirk asked dubiously.

"How many people know how a transporter works, Jim?" the doctor said rhetorically. "Same principle."

"Fair enough," the captain shrugged, and dropped the subject. "Why is your friend bound?"

"Loki is a war criminal. I am returning him to Asgard for judgement."

"War criminal?"

"He tried to conquer Midgard," Thor said shortly.

"Very well," Kirk replied. "May I suggest sending him to our brig when he awakes, until you can resume your journey?"

"That would be most appreciated, captain," Thor nodded. "But I must insist you leave his gag in place. He is not called Silvertongue for nothing."

"We will discuss this later," Kirk said, sounding notably discomforted. "Could your device have pulled my ship off-course?"

"It might have done," Thor said slowly. He didn't know the full power of the Tesseract, but it had a lot of it. "Has something happened?"

Kirk glared. "We're not sure yet. Perhaps you could enlighten us?"

* * *

Steve knelt at his mother's grave. It had become unkempt during his seventy years on ice, but a little work had it cleaned and flowers growing. The headstone was weathered, but in good condition.

There were so few things left of his past life. The Commandoes had graves scattered throughout Europe and America All Bucky had was a name on a memorial. Peggy rested in England. But at Mrs Rogers' grave, the past didn't seem so far away.

A light rain began to fall, and Steve took it as his cue to leave. Crossing the silent graveyard, he caught glimpses of names he recognized, before exiting and mounting his bike.

By the time he reached Stark Tower, the rain was lashing down, and threatening to become snow. The underground garage was cold, and Steve was glad to reach the elevator and start his ascent.

But when he arrived, it was to bedlam.

"Tony!" Pepper screeched. "You have _definitely_ gone too far this time!"

"I swear, Pep, it wasn't me this time," Tony said placatingly. "And you know that if it _was_ me, I'd be telling you why it was a good idea."

Bruce groaned. It was hard to see how Tony could be responsible, but there weren't many other options for who could have done it.

Natasha and Clint skittered into the room, on edge and alarmed. "What's going on?" Natasha demanded.

"What is _that_?" Clint exclaimed.

"We don't know," Bruce said quietly. "It just…appeared."

"Tony, get that _thing_ out of here _now_!" Pepper yelled.

"But it suits the décor," Tony protested.

"Am I interrupting something?" a nervous Steve said from the elevator. "Is Stark's latest project meant to be there?"

"It's not mine," Tony protested.

"I don't care. Get it out of the living room," Pepper insisted.

"How? I don't know what it's made of. What if it breaks?"

"Then it breaks," Pepper said menacingly.

"But Pepper!"

"Maybe we should examine it before we move it?" Bruce suggested.

"Fine," Tony capitulated sulkily. "Where do we start?"

Bruce stared at the object. It appeared to be made of three cylinders and a large disc stuck together with struts. The bottom cylinder rested on the floor while the disc was on the couch, the other two cylinders in the air.

Steve moved over, knelt, and heaved at the bottom section. "Someone grab the other end," he grunted. Clint supported the disc, and they lifted it up between them. "Better examine it quick," Steve advised.

Bruce and Tony descended. After a moment, Bruce spotted something, and froze. "Don't drop it, but there's something moving inside…"

**AN: Late. Sorry. Will try to do better.**

**This week: LBV and Flashback.**

**Next week: Flashback, Black and Red, Love and Mayhem.**

**Please review.**

**Katara**


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